


FIP: FamILY In Progress

by coconutcluster



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Fluff, Platonic LAMP - Freeform, Some family fluff, familial LAMP - Freeform, it was supposed to be a drabble but lol its 8 pages, via request, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-06-27 14:47:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15687561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coconutcluster/pseuds/coconutcluster
Summary: "if you can, could you please write some platonic LAMP within the Mindscape set pretty much exactly after Accepting Anxiety, with the others wanting to start including Virgil in everyday mundanities, but they’re unsure how to act and Virgil is completely thrown off bc he’s never done any of these things before, for example being asked if he wants anything adding to the shopping list? (i know they don’t technically need to shop, but patton likes doing it bc it’s a famILY thing)"they're still working on a functional famILY - they're getting there <3





	1. What About the Groceries?!

  Virgil’s eyes had long since abandoned the concept of drooping when he was tired. 

  He’d spent too many nights awake, plain and simple, and it was his best guess that his body had just… gotten used to it, and in the process it granted him the oh-so-sought after skill of looking wide awake at three in the morning (and being able to win a staring contest under considerable measures). The only downside, of course, were the bags, but Roman seemed to have  _ some  _ sense on occasion: dramatics, makeup or otherwise, could cover anything he didn’t quite like, and Virgil’s undereyes were always decked out in that smoky purple shadow as such.

  It just might have been that odd skill that made socializing so much more of an issue. Despite what his wide eyes might have conveyed to the others, he was  _ tired _ , and their constant chatter was getting on his nerves within minutes of his coming down the stairs. 

  “We got armfuls of your yogurt last time, Roman,” Logan sighed from the couch, a blue ballpoint pen gripped tightly in his hand as Roman danced around the living room, humming to himself. “Literal  _ armfuls _ , and you didn’t even eat  _ one _ . You are aware have money to spend and run out of, correct?”

  “I’m aware you’re a stingy yogurt-denier.” 

  “Roman,  _ please _ .”

  “Listen,” the prince said, skidding to a stop beside Virgil’s beanbag chair to glare at the logical side across the room, “I’m a very busy person, and  _ perhaps _ , on occasion, I forget about what I have sitting patiently for me in our lovely, refrigeratory friend, but that doesn’t make my yogurt whims any less valid, and I don’t appreciate you insinuating otherwise, Spectacles McGee.”

  Logan raised his eyebrows after the moment of silence that followed. “I cannot believe I just heard that sentence. You just said that out loud, and you’re- you’re  _ serious _ .” Roman held his gaze, lips pushed out in a stubborn pout, until the bespectacled side finally groaned, scribbling the item down angrily on the notepad in his lap. 

  “If you don’t eat it, I’m leaving it around your room in increasingly difficult-to-locate places, be forewarned.” Virgil almost snickered at the pinched look on Roman’s face. 

  Footsteps thudded around on the upper floor suddenly, and Patton’s bright blue polo appeared at the stairs with his equally-bright smile, cardigan sleeves bouncing on his chest as he hopped down the stairs. “Logan,” he said excitedly, whipping a piece of paper out of his pockets and waving it in the logical side’s face as he neared. “I wrote my list out.  _ Beforehand _ .”

  Logan leaned back, away from the note an inch away from his face, and examined the paper carefully. “Wonderful, Patton, thank you.” He returned to his own list, glancing between the two as he scribbled at his notepad. “I presume you refrained from adding ‘cats’ to your list this time?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Patton laughed. A second later he tugged Logan’s pen away and scratched out the last item on his shopping list before handing both objects back to the other side with a bright smile. “Of course.” Logan just shook his head.

  Virgil had half a mind to turn his music up - or, you know, actually turn it on in the first place - as his eyes settled around the room, soaking in the details in an odd, faraway method, from the way Roman bounced on his toes near the door to Patton’s leaning over Logan’s shoulder to read the shopping list (and Logan’s slight tilt of the paper to give him a better view, subtle as it was). 

  For the first time since he could remember, something about the situation didn’t seem quite as tense as it usually was. 

  Maybe it was him. He’d been practicing the breathing techniques Logan had “accidentally” messaged him the day after the confrontation in his room, and he’d been smiling more (to himself, and only at the vine compilations Patton raved about despite his fatherly innocence and confusion, but whatever). The hollowness he’d felt for so long had… well, not really  _ disappeared _ , but there was something more there now, and though he still felt a wall of awkward between himself and the others, he was fine settling for it. He felt… okay. And okay was enough for him. 

  “Virgil?”

  Virgil’s head snapped up as his name settled in the room. All three other Sides were watching him; Roman shifted uncomfortably at the door, and Patton tilted his head at the anxious side, concern etched like dimples into his freckled face. 

  “Yeah?” he said after a moment. 

  Logan cleared his throat, holding up the flip pad briefly. “Would you like to add anything to the shopping list?”

  Virgil paused, staring between Logan and the list with wide eyes. He reached up slowly and plucked the earbuds from his ears, eager to hear the sentence again and doublecheck its meaning. “What?” he asked quietly, his gaze following the lined paper as Logan lowered it once more. 

  “The shopping list,” Patton tried, his voice tinged with nervous laughter. “Any specific stuff ya want, kiddo?” 

  The anxious side glanced between the pair on the couch and Roman across the room. Confusion flooded his mind, but a second later, he found himself muttering a small, “Granola?”

  Logan raised his eyebrows - Virgil must have imagined it, but it almost seemed like a tiny smile tugged at the logical side’s lips as he scrawled the word out on the paper. Patton looked excitedly down at it, his eyes sparkling. 

  “Anything else?” Logan asked without looking up.

  “Nah, I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?” Patton frowned; Virgil blinked at him, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he picked through his head for something else to say before he made it awkward. 

  “Yeah,” he managed lamely. “That’s it, I’m good.” Patton just nodded. 

  Great. He made it awkward. 

  “Well,” Logan said finally as he stood, tearing the paper out of the notebook and folding it carefully to place in his pocket. “If that’s it, I’m going to go to the store now. Are any of you coming with me?” Patton cocked his head to the side and shook it slowly, his gaze flickering to Virgil.

  “I will,” Roman offered - his voice was staccato, a knee-jerk reaction; Virgil recognized the creative side’s impulsivity from a mile away. 

  Whatever he was planning, the anxious side felt his stomach turn - until he realized that he didn’t-  _ shouldn’t  _ have to worry, and his mind flitted back to Roman’s  soliloquy in his room merely days ago, the black eyeshadow stark against the prince’s unusually pale skin, the desperate plea in his eyes, so unlike his normal, carefree stature that Virgil had been reduced to an unrestrained smile. He thought of the last few days - Roman’s careful wording and deliberate lack of name-calling, his small gestures, like helping the anxious side clean or retrieving miscellaneous things for him, mechanic or clumsy as they were. 

  He’d begun to feel like, just maybe, Roman wasn’t so bad. 

  “Take care of yourselves, please,” Logan called as the pair left for the store, and he closed the door behind himself.

  Patton pushed himself up on the arm of the couch, his tongue poking out of his mouth as he tried to balance on it. “So what’s goin’ on, kiddo?” he asked, nearly toppling over onto the cushions when his wrist slipped; a smile broke out on his face anyway.

  Virgil glanced back to him - despite being the only other one in the room (in the  _ house _ ), it took him a few seconds to realize Patton was addressing him. 

  “Uh… not much.” The beanbag crunched beneath him as he shifted positions, grating against the quiet, buzzing air of the den. “What about you?”

  “Oh, the usual,” Patton said, before he gasped, “I found a pupper near the house the other day, but she had a tag so I went lookin’ around for her owner- it was this adorable lil’ boy- oh, Virgil, you would have loved him!” Virgil was paying close attention, but he still jolted at the sound of his name - his name! - used so casually, like close friends in a conversation. Patton didn’t seem to notice. “He had these little black overalls and a purple shirt, and I bet if he had some of your makeup on, he’d be a little Virgil clone!” The fatherly side clasped his hands together in front of him, dimples whittling themselves into his cheeks as he beamed down at Virgil. 

  “...That’s cool,” Virgil nodded after a minute of expectant silence from the other side. “Maybe I’ll see him sometime- but the universe might implode, two same existences in one spot.” It was a dumb joke, he knew it as soon as it left his mouth, and he cringed to himself-

  But Patton giggled. 

  Virgil felt some of the tension in his shoulders dissipate when he heard the infectious sound, and a smile found its way to his face before he could stop it. 

  Patton slid off the couch as the giggles died out and cupped his face with his hands, his expression suddenly and oddly still. Virgil was just about ready to poke him when he lit up like a Christmas tree, and Virgil could practically see the lightbulb over his head. 

  “We should color,” he breathed.

  “...Color?” Virgil echoed, his eyes flickering at the carpet space between him and Patton that was quickly shrinking as the fatherly side shuffled forward. 

  “Yeah! Like, crayons or pencils or markers! I can’t draw very well, but it’s fun anyway- you should do it, too!” He snapped, and a box of colored pencils and blank paper appeared between them; he was already grabbing a yellow pencil by the time Virgil comprehended the situation.

  “You can summon things?”

  Patton stopped mid-scribble, his pencil frozen a millimeter above the paper, and looked up at the anxious side with wide, confused eyes. “Of course! You...” He trailed off, his eyebrows furrowed. “Have I- I’ve never summoned for you?” 

  Virgil shook his head. A frown pulled at Patton’s face as the fatherly side stared at the art supplies between them.

  “What do  _ you _ want to do?” he said quietly, glancing up at Virgil.  

  “What?”

  “We can do just about anything,” Patton offered, pushing the art supplies to the side. “I’m sorry I can’t really do stuff with the Imagination like Roman can, but I can try my best with anything else!” 

  He gave a small, hopeful smile draped in hesitance; Virgil blinked at him, weighing his options as quickly as he could before the fatherly side faltered.

  “We could listen to music?” Patton’s smile grew in an instant, lighting up the room as he snapped the art supplies away and a small speaker appeared in its place. 

  “That’s  _ perfect _ ,” he squealed - Virgil couldn’t help but feel a small burst of pride in his chest from making the the father figure so happy. “What kind? Do you like Hamilton?”

  “I think we all like Hamilton, since we’re, y’know, Thomas,” Virgil chuckled before he reconsidered. “Well, maybe not Logan, but-“

  “Oh, he likes it.” Virgil’s eyebrows shot up as Patton cut him off, who didn’t seem to notice as he fiddled with the buttons in the speakers, tongue poking out between his lips. “He listens to it while he edits scripts and all the other doodad stuff with the videos. He’s the best at Guns and Ships, but don’t tell Ro I said that.” 

  Something about the image of the logical side rapping Lafayette in his room, alone, made a laugh bubble up in Virgil’s chest; he didn’t doubt in the slightest, he just couldn’t imagine Roman’s face if he ever heard. 

  Patton glanced up at him with a crooked smile, his nose scrunched up. “I know it sounds a lil funny - I heard him singing Room Where It Happens in the shower once. I dunno why he doesn’t sing with us when we’re together!”

  “Maybe he’s anxious,” Virgil said without thinking, and instantly smacked a hand over his mouth. 

  A million thoughts ran through his head - mostly a string of curse words he didn’t feel comfortable saying out loud - as every possible ending to the conversation was replaced by that moment, and he couldn’t help but imagine the others in his room, their eyes stamped with black, over and over and over again.

   Patton’s smile fell as he saw; his hands flinched as if he wanted to reach out, eyebrows low over concerned brown eyes, but he held back, and left his arms to hover in the air as Virgil scooted back quickly, away from the crestfallen side. His beanbag stopped Virgil from flattening himself against the wall like he tried- why did he have to bring anxiety up? Why did he always ruin everything?

  “Sorry,” he muttered through his fingers, his free hand worrying at the zipper on his sleeve. “I didn’t mean to bring that up or anything, I just- you guys- why would you all get anxious? That was dumb, I’m really sorry, jeez, this was going okay-“

  “Virgil.” Patton’s voice was heavier than the anxious side had heard before; his mouth was pulled into a tight lipped frown as he watched the hoodie-clad boy still pulling at the various embellishments on his sleeves. “You don’t have to be sorry for anything, kiddo.” And he reached a hand across the space between them, palm up, fingers splayed out.

  Virgil met Patton’s eyes with soft hesitance, searching for the disgust or disappointment in his gaze… but it was just Morality’s round brown eyes behind his glasses, full of hope and a smile that didn’t meet his mouth quite yet, though it tugged at the edges. It was just Patton. 

   He placed his hand on top of the one before him.

  Patton pulled him into a hug, wrapping his arms around the anxious side, one hand on his back and the other on his head. “You never have to be sorry for that, Virge,” he repeated firmly. “I’m sorry that we ever made you feel like you did.”

     Virgil took a second to reorient himself - he couldn’t remember ever being this close to one of the others, save for the time Roman and he had held hands, and even then, it was less than a minute of contact before they’d ripped apart - and slowly fell into the embrace, squeezing his arms around Patton as much as he dared, hoping the fatherly side could feel his nod. 

  “It’s okay,” he mumbled. 

  Patton just hugged harder, before he pulled away and met Virgil’s eyes with a small, tilted smile. “You’re probably right, too.”

  “What?”

  “About Logan!” Patton said easily as he shuffled around to Virgil’s side, glancing at him with a quirked eyebrow and waiting for Virgil to nod before he continued. “I know he acts like… well, a robot, I guess, but he feels stuff just like us, sometimes a lot more.” His eyes got a faraway look for a minute. “I think you’re right - he’s anxious about messing that science-y picture of himself up. He doesn’t want to mess  _ anything  _ up.” 

  Virgil raised his eyebrows a the moral side - his observational skills came as an admitted shock, and he could only agree with a bouncing nod. 

  “He shouldn’t be worried, though,” Patton continued after a moment, bumping his shoulder against Virgil’s with a wink. “We’ll always love him, even if he can rap Hamilton better than Roman.”

  “Princey might not be too happy with that,” Virgil tried with a small smile, and he perked up as Patton laughed. 

  “No, probably not, but he doesn’t have to know for now.” 

  They sat in the easy silence of the room for a moment. 

  “Schuyler Sisters?”

  “Please.”

 

  One hour and one full act of Hamilton later, the door finally swung open to reveal Logan and Roman, their arms heavy with bulky plastic bags. 

  “Roman, you should have just grabbed fewer and gone out again,” Logan said as Roman shuffled sideways through the door to fit.

  “ _ I’m getting these in one trip or I’ll die a martyr _ .”

  “...very well, then.”

  “Logan!” Patton shouted, scrambling up and into the kitchen, where the logical side let out a heavy sigh as he dropped the bags onto the tile floor, his expression weary - Virgil snorted at the thought of Roman and Logan out in public together with no buffer, and he immediately felt bad for any shopper who had been in their vicinity. 

  “Did you get the Oreos?” Patton asked excitedly. Logan nodded and collapsed at the table, putting his head in his hands as the barrage of questions hit him. “And the cookie dough? And the Fruit Roll-ups? And-”

  “Yes, Patton, we got everything on your list.”

  Patton stopped and nodded calmly, sinking into the chair across from Logan, his lips puckered as he said, “And the cats?” 

  “No.”

  “But-”

  “You said you took it off- and we are  _ not  _ getting a cat, Patton, you’re allergic!”

_ “LOGAN, PLEASE _ -”

  “Hey.”

  Virgil’s head snapped up, tearing his focus away from the bespectacled pair in the kitchen; Roman stood at the side of his beanbag with his hands folded behind his back, still bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

  “...Yes?” Virgil said slowly. He narrowed his eyes as the prince took a small breath and shoved a small container in his direction. 

  Virgil jerked back to avoid it, expecting something painful or embarrassing or shocking, but nothing happened, and he opened his eyes to see Roman’s face pinched with… well, with anxiety, still holding the container an inch away from the other side’s face. 

  “It’s mint chocolate chip,” Roman supplied after a moment, shaking the pint of ice cream in his hands gently to show it off to Virgil. “I couldn’t really remember if that was your favorite or not, but you seem to like it nonetheless, so I made Logan buy it- not that it was a huge deal or anything- it’s just ice cream, I know-” He stopped and cleared his throat as Virgil took the container from his hands. “So… there you go, I suppose.”

  Virgil examined the pint, twisting it in hands to see the bright green label, decked out in chocolatey brown dots and loopy cursive. It made his fingertips numb - he was almost surprised it hadn’t already melted in the Florida heat - but he only held it tighter as he looked back up at Roman, who worried his bottom lip between his teeth. 

  “Thank you,” he said, his tone as genuine as he could manage through his surprise, which seemed to be quite a lot, since Roman’s eyebrows shot up and he swallowed with an audible click in his Adam’s apple. 

  “Uh- of course. No problem.” he corrected quickly, “I just saw it and thought maybe you’d want some because you only asked for granola, which we also got, of course, but-” He cleared his throat again and nodded, finishing quietly, “It really was no problem.”

  Virgil stared at the pint in his hands, and he smiled.

  “Guys!” Patton’s voice called to them from the kitchen, bright and too loud for the brief distance between the two pairs. “We should watch a movie!”

  Logan glanced to the mountains of grocery bags still on the kitchen floor. “I believe we should put the groceries away first-”

  “A movie is a movie, Specs,” Roman said flippantly, immediately falling back into his relaxed disposition, leaning one shoulder against the wall as Patton skidded back into the living room and landed clumsily on the couch. “The groceries can wait a little bit.”

  “We have frozen foods, Roman-”

  “So? They’re not gonna spoil in an hour.”

  “ _ That is not how proper food management works _ -”

  “What do you think, Virge?”

  Virgil’s smirk faltered as he focused on Patton and Roman looking expectantly at him; he felt suddenly like a deer in headlights, unwitting in its demise, though he tried to force the thought from his head as soon as it came. “About what?”

  “What movie should we watch?” Roman asked, snickering when Logan groaned and dropped his head on the tabletop. 

  “You’re asking me?” 

  The room went silent. 

  Roman and Patton shared a quick look, and Logan glanced up, his brow knit; Patton’s mouth turned down in a frown once more as he cleared his throat and turned fully to the anxious side.

  “Do you  _ want  _ to watch something with us?” he asked more carefully, clasping his fingers together in front of him. “You really can choose- Logan can make popcorn, too, if you want it!” For once, Logan didn’t protest. 

  Virgil blinked quickly - their eyes were all on him, but he didn’t know what they wanted, where he would sit, if they usually commented on the movie while they watched it-

  “I’ll just mess it up,” he mumbled. 

  He grabbed his earbuds and the pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream and finally stood, angled for the stairs, when Patton’s voice reached his ears again. “Kiddo, remember our talk from earlier?”

  He glanced back, over his shoulder, and saw Patton’s smile, and he looked briefly to the others - Logan’s mouth was set in a deep frown at the anxious side’s stance to head up the stairs, and Roman actually looked  _ disappointed _ . 

  Virgil felt the tight knot in his chest unfurl -  _ they want you here _ , he thought to himself,  _ they want you here, with them _ . He blinked as pressure built up behind his eyes. 

  “Can we watch Black Cauldron?”

  Roman’s eyes widened and he was at the TV in a split second, fumbling for the power button before anyone could even settle down on the couch.

  “Disney seemed a smart choice,” Logan commented drily.

  “Virge, come on!” Patton waved the anxious side over to the cushion beside him, patting it excitedly until the boy made his way over and plopped down on it, shoulders hunched and mouth a taut line. 

  “I’m glad you’re watching something with us,” Patton stage-whispered after a minute, leaning towards Virgil as if he wouldn’t hear him otherwise. Virgil’s mouth twitched into an involuntary smile.

  “Me too,” Roman sighed; the others looked at him with raised eyebrows before he caught himself. “What? It’s nice to have someone who actually  _ understands  _ the movie- and the franchise, mind you!” He met Virgil’s gaze for a split second, shrugging as he turned back to the TV. “Besides, I don’t mind him that much.”

  The TV finally switched on; Logan made his way into the living room, flicking the lights off and setting a bowl of popcorn that Virgil hadn’t noticed he’d made on the coffee table, settling on the couch on Patton’s other side. Roman scooted back against the couch near Virgil’s feet as the movie started.

  Admittedly, Virgil missed the first half of the movie. His focus fell to the warmth around him - he couldn’t quite tell if it was the others’ body heat, or something deeper, something bright at his core. He didn’t see why it couldn’t be both. 

  It occurred to him suddenly, around forty minutes in to the film, that his eyes had actually begun to droop for the first time since he could remember. He forced them open until he heard Patton’s soft snores, and felt his head fall on Virgil’s shoulder, followed by Roman leaning gently against his knees; Virgil glanced around as another noise drifted to his ears. Logan hummed to himself on the other side of the couch, his eyes trained on the screen, though relatively glazed over. 

  The soft symphony of his surroundings filled his head, mixing lightly with the warmth in his chest and the LED glow before him, and a smile found its way easily to his face.

  Virgil took a deep breath, and let his eyes close. 


	2. Hamilton Brings Forth a Lot of Emotions, OK?

It was a shock to him to wake up in his bed the next morning, his hoodie draped over the desk chair across the room, blankets snug around his body. 

  He couldn’t remember getting up from the couch the night before - he wasn’t exactly complaining, for one reason in particular: for the first time in God knew how long, Virgil actually had  _ energy _ . 

  He opened his eyes… and they just… stayed open _. _ He didn’t feel like going back to sleep for twelve years, or downing a pot of coffee, or taping his eyelids open (he’d never tried that one before, but it had occurred to him on more than one occasion).  Instead, he felt like he could get up, he could eat breakfast now instead of noon, he could-

   He could clean his room. 

 

   Virgil’s room wasn’t necessarily dirty - the thought of anything resembling a Hoarder’s episode gave him, well, anxiety - but it wasn’t exactly clean, either; discarded t-shirts littered the carpeted floor around empty water bottles and various, unidentifiable crumbs, and everything from CD’s to makeup palettes sat scattered across his desk and dresser top. 

   He wouldn’t really call himself organized. Or whatever was a level below organized. Or the one below that, for that matter-  _ the point was _ , he was a little bit of a mess. He’d wanted to fix his bedroom for a while, but sleeping three hours a week didn’t really allow the mental stability for the task, so he’d left it how it was (he had been spending more time in the Commons anyway, so, ha). 

  But now! Now he had something resembling motivation, and he was determined to get his room to a point where he  _ didn’t  _ feel like duct taping a sleeping mask over his eyes 24/7 so he could ignore the mess with more efficiency (he actually had tried that one; he learned to push his bangs off his forehead before bringing tape of any magnitude near his face).

   So after a brief, albeit panicky, search for his phone (it was still in the pocket of his hoodie, which he shrugged back on as soon as he saw it again), he pulled up a random playlist and situated himself in the direct middle of his room, sitting cross-legged on the floor and bracing himself for what was to come. 

  The first hour went by relatively smoothly; he made his way around the floor, slowly but surely, tossing trash into the plastic bin beside his desk with a few soft “ _yeet_ ”s to himself - not that he would admit it anywhere else, but the vine was iconic, and he had no qualms mimicking it because _life imitates art_ , dang it - and gathering the random assortment of t-shirts in his arms, stopping briefly to examine them (did he ever even wear the gold shirt he stole from Roman after one of their arguments? Absolutely not, but that didn’t stop him from shoving it back in his closet). He picked through crumpled papers near his desk, scanning their words and throwing most in the trash; he managed to clear a whole corner of his floor, save for vacuuming. It almost made him smile - he’d done something productive! Only a small part of the room was clean, true, but it was something!

  The only issue was that there was a  _ lot _ more ‘something’ to be done. He had to clear his drawers out, and straighten his desk up, and maybe go through his closet so he actually knew what he owned - a glance around at the remaining mess made his stomach turn, as all of it at once seemed to flood his brain without a proper warning, draining the energy he’d been so excited to feel earlier that morning, and then all he could think about was laying down and not moving for hours or possibly years.

  That’s how he ended up leaning against his bed with a bundle of t-shirts draped over his arms, his phone blasting Panic at the Disco as he just stared blankly at his trash can, mind whirring with the list of things he had to do. He hadn’t even eaten breakfast. Did he know what time it was? When had he woken up? How long had he been up? Had he even  _ really  _ done anything? Maybe the entire idea was dumb. He should have just stayed in bed, let his eyes stay closed until that night when he’d inevitably be awake until sunrise to start the entire process over again-

  “Virgil?” 

  Virgil’s head snapped up to the door - it creaked open slowly, and a second later, a pair of glasses and blue tie popped out from behind the wood. 

   “Ah,” Logan said, his eyes finally landing on Virgil as he scanned the room. “You’re up. I just came to make sure you haven’t died. Are you alright?”

   “I’m… alive,” Virgil responded slowly; he paused his music and raised an eyebrow at the logical side, still hovering half-covered behind the door, his eyes narrowing. “Why? Did I do something?” Had he? He went through the last few hours in his head as quickly as possible - he might have been making too much noise-

   Logan squinted at nothing before shaking his head. “Not that I know of.” His gaze flickered around the room, no doubt at the scattered mess still draping its floor, and he cleared his throat. “Patton made breakfast, if you’d like some - my apologies for bothering you, you’re not usually awake at this time.” He nodded once and ducked back behind the door.

  It didn’t close, and he reappeared a second later, his own eyes narrowed behind square frames. 

  “May I ask what exactly you’re doing?” he said, glancing around the room again.

  Virgil opened his mouth to answer when his head ached suddenly, the turbulent pressure of his to-do list pushing at his mind as he stared down at the t-shirts in his arms, and he took a deep breath. “I was cleaning my room,” he said quietly, “but it’s kinda stupid, I guess, ‘cause I can’t really do it all at once when there’s so much. I- well, I guess I could, but it’s a lot and I don’t really know how to get through it-”

  He cut himself off suddenly, sucking in a breath- what was he doing? Logan didn’t care about what he could and couldn’t do, and rambling did nothing to fix the mess in his room (or his head). Now Logan would think he’s lazy, or just complaining about something that was his own fault; Virgil braced himself, glancing up at the logical side.

   Logan’s eyes had gone slightly wide as he looked around the room a third time, and his face lit up. 

  “Do you need any help organizing?” he asked in a single, rushed breath, finally stepping into the room, though his hands still rested on the doorknob, as if he were afraid to intrude fully and commit to his spot on the carpet. He eyes fell over every surface of the room, sparkling with an odd excitement that Virgil had never seen in him before (save for the Crofters discussion, of course).

  “What?” Virgil said before he could stop himself, a frown tugging at his lips. Logan stopped.

  “Oh, I-” He seemed to comprehend his own words suddenly; his fingers flew to his tie as he pulled gently at the knot, readjusting it despite its perfection, his lips pursed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t- I got ahead of myself. Please excuse me.” He shuffled in his spot for a second before turning back to the door, muttering quickly, “I’ll- I can go-”

  “No!” Logan paused in the doorway, looking back at Virgil’s outstretched arm. The anxious side met his eyes as he tried carefully to pick through their gleam - Logan didn’t seem the type to make fun of him, but his instincts remained nonetheless. “I just didn’t- you’d really wanna help?”

  “Of course,” Logan said without hesitation.

  Despite the shock that blared through his head, a smile tugged at Virgil’s mouth before he smothered it, offering the logical side a single nod instead; Logan didn’t even bother to hide his own grin as he stepped further into Virgil’s bedroom, examining the mess with his hands on his hips and eyes bright once more. 

   “Is there a particular way you have things ordered?” he said, lifting a stray sweatshirt from the desk to glance at the contents beneath. Virgil frowned. 

   “Does it look like anything is ordered in here?” 

  Logan just let out a small chuckle, until he finally noticed the bundle still in the anxious side’s arms and raised his eyebrows. “Would you like to start by sorting those?” 

  “Sorting?”

  “Of course. Dirty, clean, weather appropriate- I suppose we could even do color-coded, if you’d like-”

  “Let’s just stick with clean and dirty for now,” Virgil interrupted quickly, his grip on the shirts tightening.   

  Logan watched and paused for a moment before nodding. “Alright, we can do that.” He strode to Virgil’s side at the bed and sat down next to him, clapping his hands together - Virgil noticed a genuine buzz in his movements, bright and almost (no, scratch that,  _ definitely _ ) excited as the logical side waited for him to let go of the clothes in his grip. 

   “Oh, is it- can I play music?’ Virgil asked quietly. The room was too silent, too much and not enough at the same time without the notes around him, not to mention he’d have to think of conversation topics so it wasn’t awkward-

   “Of course,” Logan replied, grabbing the first shirt and folding it without so much as a glance in his direction as Virgil tentatively grabbed his phone and clicked the first song that came up - it was a cello cover of something Virgil couldn’t quite name, but it was smooth, and it danced around in his head as he picked through the pile of shirts before him and began separating them. 

  There was an odd comfort in Logan’s presence, the anxious side soon found. He didn’t seem to expect constant conversation, much to Virgil’s overwhelming relief, but the air around the pair wasn’t awkward as they folded in silence (save for the soft melody in the background) - Logan even bounced along to the music at times, his head bobbing subtly side to side with the beat of the song, as the method of the work lulled Virgil into a steady rhythm that he found maybe a little too much joy in. 

  “Is this Roman’s?”

  Virgil was snapped out of his reverie by the logical side’s curious lilt; he glanced up and saw the prince’s captive t-shirt in his hands, golden even in the dim light of his room. 

  Had he forgotten to throw it in his closet? It was sort of a joke to him earlier, but now he just looked like a thief - he needed to play it cool, but not too cool because he was a very un-chill person, and anything  _ too  _ cool would be suspicious.

  “Maybe,” Virgil said. 

_ Perfect _ .

  Logan looked down at it and snickered, folding it into a neat square and laying it on top of the ever-growing pile at his side. “I assume you took it in retaliation?” Virgil nodded hesitantly, opening his mouth to explain, but the logical side cut him off with another short laugh. “Phenomenal. No worries, he never wore it anyway, though I’m sure it taught him a lesson.” 

   Virgil raised his eyebrows. “You’re not… mad? Or anything?”

   “Of course not; Roman has taken my ties on numerous occasion for the sake of ‘pranks’,” Logan air-quoted drily, “and personally, I don’t see why he needs so many different clothing choices in the first place. It seems like a waste of valuable space.” Virgil looked sheepishly down at the piles of t-shirts around them, and Logan just raised an eyebrow. “Trust me, this is nothing compared to his closet.”

   Virgil couldn’t help but snort at the logical side’s exasperation, from his heavy sigh to the monotone delivery of the statement - Logan gave a small smile. 

   “It’s true,” he continued as he grabbed the folded pile nearest to him - Virgil hadn’t even noticed that they’d finished sorting the clothes - and stood. “There are so many clothes in that closet; I’ve never even seen him wear half of them!”

   “I guess he really puts the Imagination to use,” Virgil quipped. He gathered the dirty pile in his arms and dropped them in the otherwise-unused hamper by his door as Logan harrumphed in agreement. 

   The music on his phone switched suddenly from cello to a bouncing rhythm, heavy with percussion and synthetic instrumentals - Logan stopped at the closet door. 

   Leslie Odom Jr.’s voice sang out from the desk where Virgil’s phone sat, and it took Virgil exactly three seconds to realize that it was Guns and Ships; a laugh escaped his chest before he could stop it as Logan went stoically back to placing the folded piles on the shelves of the closet, his eyes trained carefully on the clothing rack in front of him. 

  “Man, I love this song,” Virgil said after a moment, humming the melody loud enough for the logical to hear on the other side of the room. Logan just nodded; Virgil raised an eyebrow. “I wish I could rap it.”

  The closet door fell shut with a sharp click - Virgil jumped, but a smile crossed his face as Logan put his forehead to the wood with an exasperated sigh. 

  “Patton Sanders,” he muttered under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut.

   “Sorry, Lo, your secret’s out,” Virgil snickered. “Only to me, I guess, and Patton- at least Roman doesn’t know.” 

   “Wonderful.” 

  The anxious side stopped at the genuine snap in Logan’s voice - it was harsh, concise. It struck him suddenly, what Patton had told him after Virgil suggested anxiety for the logical side’s privacy:  _ He’s anxious about messing that science-y picture of himself up. He doesn’t wanna mess  _ anything  _ up.  _

__ Of course Virgil had mentioned it. He hadn’t even thought about it- he imagined it’d be funny, but it wasn’t, and now he’d upset the person he’d gotten along with just fine for so long. 

   “I’m sorry, Logan,” he breathed, turning back to his hamper and busying his shaking hands with the cords on its rim. “I was just- I shouldn’t have mentioned it, I didn’t mean to make fun of you- Patton just told me you were really good at it and I thought- I  _ wasn’t  _ thinking-”

   “Virgil.” The anxious side glanced over his shoulder - Logan’s face with pinched with concern as he watched Virgil. “It’s quite alright, really. It’s not your fault - it’s not anyone’s fault, of course, save for my own, I suppose-”

   “How?”

  Logan raised his eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”

  “How is it your fault?” 

   “Oh.” The logical side’s hands flew to his tie again, tugging at the knot. Virgil suddenly felt better at fiddling with his zippers when he was anxious. “Well, I- music is a wonderful coping mechanism, of course, but I shouldn’t- I don’t need it. For anything productive, I mean.” He cleared his throat and turned to the dresser, sifting through and separating the contents on its surface. “It’s a frivolous pursuit for Logic.” 

_ Wow _ . “Logan, you know you can do both, right?”

   “Hm?”

   “You can enjoy music or, uh, frivolous pursuits and still be productive. That’s kind of what we’ve been doing for the past, like, hour and a half.”

   “Well, yes, but-” He cut himself off.

   Virgil eyed him carefully, from his short, jerky movements to the taut line his mouth had formed. “But that’s not the problem?”

   Logan’s hands stilled above a nearly-empty makeup palette, hovering above the tin box for a few seconds before he sighed once more. 

   “I need to be taken seriously,” he said quietly. “Thomas needs an objective outlook - Patton and Roman are valuable aspects in regards to his future, but they can be harmful to his wellbeing all on their own. If they begin to disregard my input even more than usual, I…I don’t know what would happen. To Thomas or me.” The music stopped suddenly (his phone must have died, but the timing was too appropriate).

   “Oh,” was all Virgil could offer at first. Logan looked up at him, and his face fell. 

  “My apologies, Virgil, I shouldn’t have put that on you,” he said quickly, finally straightening the mess on the dresser’s surface in a rush. “That was rather sudden and inconsiderate of me. Just…we can just move on. I’m sorry.”

   “What? No, you- you didn’t do anything wrong,” Virgil insisted. “I- I get what you mean.” 

  Logan didn’t respond. 

  “It can be frustrating to be ignored when you know you’re just trying to do what’s best for Thomas,” the anxious side continued hesitantly; something flashed in Logan’s eyes, a spark of something sad before he turned back to the dresser. “But Lo? They trust you-  _ we  _ trust you, even though we get ahead of ourselves sometimes.” Virgil’s mouth quirked into a smirk suddenly as he added, quieter, “Even if you can rap Hamilton the best.”

   Logan finally cracked a smile, crooked and bright, just like Patton’s. “Thank you,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. They fell silent; the logical side seemed contemplative, his mouth scrunched to the side and brow knit. 

   “We can finish up with the desk,” Virgil coughed. The room was much nicer than when he’d started (apparently the clothes made it seem a LOT messier than it actually was), and he felt a swell of pride in his chest as he looked around. Logan and he made a nice team, he thought.

   The soft buzz of silence fell around them as they cleared off Virgil’s desk - Logan’s gaze was far away as he sorted writing utensils and various, torn notebooks, but the anxious side next to him was content to flip through the books scattered across the table without a word. They were done in no time. 

   “Thank you for helping,” Virgil said as the pair rose from their cross-legged positions on Virgil’s carpet. 

   “It was no problem at all. I’m happy to help again, if you ever need it,” Logan assured him, hands on his hips as he paused at the door, gaze clouded. Virgil nodded gratefully and turned back to his desk to examine their work, but he didn’t hear Logan leave. 

   “Virgil?” he heard finally - Virgil glanced to the logical side, still hovering in the doorway. Logan took a deep breath and offered him a small, genuine smile. “We trust you, too.” 

   A sunburst seemed to explode in his head. 

_    We.  _ They. The others trusted him. He didn’t know quite how much that applied to Roman, of course - Virgil didn’t know much at all about their relationship now - but the thought of the others, even just Logan and Patton, trusting him brought forth a blossom of warmth in his chest, one that spread from his heart to the tips of his fingers in an instant. He thought, perhaps, his brain had stopped working completely, but he managed one thing:

  “Thank you.”


	3. Seriously, Whatever Happened to the Groceries? The Author Doesn't Know Either

If he’d have known how much stress would disappear with the clutter on his floor, Virgil would have cleaned ages ago.

  There was something so _alleviating_ about being able to see his carpet, to know that he wouldn’t trip on the hodgepodge of monuments to his constant lethargy, and he sat on his bed staring at the immaculate floor for a good ten minutes just to revel in it. His music had yet to be paused - Lin Manuel Miranda’s voice floated through the air, rapping something Virgil didn’t exactly zone in on, but it sounded victorious enough that he left it on as a homage to his inner triumph - as he wondered idly if the others thought he was busy, and that’s why they’d left him uninterrupted for so long (not that he was complaining). Then it struck him that they _usually_ left him unacknowledged. Alone.

  It was a dark enough eclipse over his good mood that he finally pushed himself off the bed and started wandering around his room.

  He’d never even put his beaten-up Converse on that morning - though he didn’t recall taking them off the night before - so his socks met the carpet first, worn fabric against its plush fibers; a stupid grin twitched at Virgil’s lips as he curled his toes into the floor, savoring the purity of it all. It wasn’t as if he’d _never_ had a clean room, but the sheer concept of even one mess being removed from the constant wreckage that was his mind made his heart soar; he shuffled a few steps and looked around, his smile broadening, eyes roaming over every neatly-ordered aspect - even the fake cobwebs he’d draped over his lamps had been straightened. He couldn’t help but snicker at Logan’s attention to detail.   

   By the time he’d made it around his (clean!) floor, his stomach decided to try and devour him from the inside out in protest to its emptiness; he rarely ever woke up as early as he had that morning, and he hadn’t given Logan’s breakfast invitation a second thought (especially after the logical side’s extended stay), but now he wished he’d went down when food was offered. Would it be awkward for him to grab some in the middle of the afternoon? The others had surely eaten lunch by now, but it wasn’t late enough for dinner yet, so they were probably all down in the Commons, hanging out. Together. And would definitely notice him rummaging around in the fridge.

  His stomach rumbled again - apparently, he didn’t have a choice in the matter.

  With a heavy sigh (and only fifteen more minutes of deliberation), Virgil grabbed his sketchbook and a pencil and headed downstairs.

  The minute he stepped out into the hall, Patton’s buoyant cheers floated to his ears from the living room, which confirmed Virgil’s suspicions that the other Sides were hanging out - his stomach twisted at the thought of their eyes on him-

  Except, he reminded himself suddenly, Patton had hugged him, comforted him. Logan helped him at something the anxious side had seen as stupid, when he’d seen _himself_ as stupid and incapable - Logan appreciated him and told him the others did the same.

  And Roman…

  Well, it didn’t matter what Roman thought. It was all a confusing scribble of seemingly forced politeness from the prince that set Virgil on edge around him, and besides, the anxious side had Patton and Logan - he didn’t need a unanimous acceptance to function as part of the group (as nice at it would be).

  Virgil gave himself one last firm nod and started down the stairs, hugging his sketchbook to his chest, careful not to let the loose pages spill out over the steps; he kept his eyes trained on the carpet beneath his feet - it was only then that he realized he’d yet to put on shoes - until he got halfway, smoothing the furrow in his features as he allowed himself a nonchalant glance into the living room.

  Logan was reading silently in corner, but Patton sat on the couch beside Roman, shiny red knitting needles woven between the messy stitches of a blue scarf in the fatherly side’s hands; Roman just watched his clumsy crafting with a crooked smile, offering a small comment every so often, his voice laced with laughter. Logan glanced up with a start as the needles clattered suddenly to the ground, and Patton yelped before breaking into a peal of giggles.   

  Virgil quietly watched the scene unfold before him. He chewed at his bottom lip as a pit hollowed itself into his chest, the bright colors of the trio below him swimming together before his eyes - his days of sitting on the landing as a silent observer washed over him, and he wanted nothing more than to be in the middle of the exchange in the living room, to sit in the midst of their laughter and bright smiles and join in on their warm gazes.

  Without warning, Roman looked over.

  Their eyes met over the lingering smile on the prince’s face, over the knit brow on Virgil’s, and Roman froze. He blinked up at the anxious side with a clouded gaze - Virgil felt like a spotlight had been placed on him, fingers tightening around his sketchbook and face heating up; he felt his heartbeat quicken as the colors around him start to warp at the edges-

  But Roman just drooped. A glint of something almost sad flashed through his eyes, and he stood without a word, giving the anxious side a stiff nod as he shuffled into the kitchen and out of sight.

  Oh.

 Virgil stood another moment on the stairs in confusion - was that... a peace offering?

   _Of course not_ , a voice in his head snapped, sounding a bit too much like a certain scaly nuisance for his comfort, _he still hates you. He’s just being polite. Patton probably forced him to._ It struck another painful chord in his chest, but he had to admit, it was the most likely reason for the prince’s awkward acquiescence; either way, Virgil’s path to the living room now left him breathing easy.

  He finally arrived at the base of the steps, and he shuffled over to his beanbag before Patton beamed at him from the couch, his nose crinkling up.

  “Morning, kiddo!” he said, scooping up the crumpled scarf at his feet as Virgil settled into his seat and flipped through his sketchbook. “I was just about to go check on you!”

  Virgil paused to stare up at him. “Really?”

   “Yeah! Just wanted to see if you needed a snack, since you didn’t come down for lunch.” Patton’s grin softened, his gaze flickering to Logan’s before landing back on Virgil, bright with a magnitude of fondness unique to his amber eyes. “And to make sure you’re doin’ okay.”

  “Oh.” Virgil felt a smile pull at the corners of his mouth, “Yeah, I’m doing fine.” He glimpsed at Logan, who watched him and Patton with a hushed amusement, then back to Patton, the last of the tension in his shoulders disintegrating as he took in their warm gazes and soft smiles. “I’m doing pretty good.”

  “Good! Maybe we can watch another movie tonight,” Patton mused, turning back to his knitting. His tongue peeked out between his lips as the needles clacked together without much actual knitting as a result, but he seemed satisfied with his work so far, so Virgil swallowed the laugh in his throat - he wondered idly how often they convened down here and just… _were_. How many times they sat talked, and read, and did whatever else together.

  But for once, he didn’t actually care about the answer. He was here with them now, part of their fond existence, even if something sharp still nagged at the back of his mind.

  Virgil leaned back in his seat and set to work in his sketchbook, scribbling at the pages with abstract lines until they started to form something he could work with. He barely paid any mind to how they conjoined and overlapped - his heart still soared at his surroundings, at the comfortable silence and easy atmosphere, and his focus drifted from the shaded doodle under his pencil, but he did notice the steadily increasing heaviness of his strokes. The lines got blacker as he went on. Something was prickling in his mind, forming a weight in his stomach; he pushed it down, determined to enjoy this moment, what he’d watched in wistful silence since the day he appeared in the Mindscape and made himself known. This is what he’d wanted.

  So why did he feel so awful?

  The pit in his stomach only grew as the minutes ticked by before it finally hit him: it was too quiet. He yearned suddenly for his earbuds, yet something told him that wasn’t the problem. The air was empty of a crucial factor.

  The tip of his pencil suddenly snapped.

  Virgil flinched, blinking down at the black smudges across the side of his hand, and his eyes fell to the drawing impressed on the thin paper of his sketchbook - it was a castle, messy and unevenly shaded, but a clear, doodled parallel of the patch he saw every time he looked to his right on the stair landing. All it needed was the red and gold.

  The tip of Roman’s golden epaulette and red sash were barely visible in the kitchen from where Virgil sat, but the anxious side could tell he was fiddling with his hands, shoulders bobbing every few seconds as he sat on the counter with his back facing the living room. He’d been quiet the entire time Virgil had been downstairs - not that that was a particularly long period of time, but it was a feat for the prince, always bursting with songs and ideas he had to vocalize. His odd silence left the house feeling empty.

  Virgil slowly, reluctantly, closed his sketchbook and stood.

  “Virgil?” Logan said, his brow furrowed. “Are you alright?”

  “Yeah, I’m just grabbing something to eat,” Virgil lied - well, it wasn’t a _complete_ lie, because he definitely needed to eat - as he took a deep breath and headed for the kitchen.

  Roman was flipping through a worn leatherbound journal, his face pinched as he scanned its contents - Virgil could see various rainbow sticky notes spilling out from between the pages, all covered in messy cursive that reminded the anxious side of a doctor’s handwriting, oddly esthetic but ultimately illegible (though it wouldn’t surprise him if Roman could read or write any handwriting). The prince’s hand twitched suddenly, a half-hearted wave, and a black ballpoint pen appeared between his fingers; he scrawled a message in the margins of the page he was on when Virgil cleared his throat.

  Their eyes met in an instant - Roman’s pen disappeared as he blinked at the anxious side with wide eyes.

  “Hi,” Virgil said.

  “Hey.” Roman slowly closed his notebook and slid off the counter, clearing his throat. “Do you need me to-” He nodded towards the living room.

  “No. I wanted to talk to you.” The prince’s eyebrows shot up, but Virgil ignored it and opened the fridge, scrambling for a good way to actually start the conversation - he really should have planned longer before barging in here.

  By the time he had finished rummaging through the refrigerator and emerged with a jar of Crofters, Roman was still watching him, his gaze wary and shoulders tense.  

  “Listen,” Virgil started, “I know you don’t really like me-”

  “I never said I don’t like you,” Roman interrupted immediately, but he flinched a moment later, before Virgil could even retort. “Well, I have- but I don’t anymore! Not like you, I mean - I don’t hate you,” he stumbled, his face tinged with red.

  The anxious side blinked at him. “...Okay, that’s good. I think.” He grabbed the bread from the counter behind him and took another deep breath - his heart was pounding, but he had to remind himself, this was not a confrontation. He was just talking. They were _talking_. “I know I’m still a little out of place with you guys. I get that you don’t really want me here, or you’re not used to me, whatever- but you know you don’t have to avoid me completely, right?”

  Roman frowned. “What?”

  “You can ignore me, I’m… I can live with that, but you don’t have to cut yourself off from everyone else just because I’m here-”

  “Wait, I-”

  “I’m doing my best to give you guys whatever space you need - I don’t want to crowd you, and I get it if me suddenly be around is jarring, really-”

  “ _V_ _irgil_ -”

  “But if me being here is that bad, I can go back to what I used to do- you shouldn’t distance yourself from your family because of me-”

  “Our family.”

  Virgil froze, glancing up from the sandwich in his shaking hands to see Roman’s face bright with determination. “What?”

  “It’s not my family, Virgil, it’s _our_ family. You’re a part of it.” That same sad sparkle from earlier reappeared in his eyes. “You always have been, and… I’m sorry, if- I’m sorry I ever implied otherwise.”

  “Oh,” Virgil said lamely.

  “I didn’t mean to make it seem like I was avoiding you,” Roman continued hesitantly, tugging at the edges of his sash. “I just- we don’t-” He huffed a breath, frustration clear on his face, and dropped his notebook onto the counter as his shoulders drooped. “I was awful to you, Virgil, for a very long time, and I just thought it might make you more- _willing_ to join us - to be with Patton and Logan, at least - if I removed myself from the equation for a bit.”

  “Removed yourself from the equation,” Virgil repeated.

  Roman started to nod, then paled suddenly. “Oh, that’s what you- I didn’t mean- I wasn’t making fun of you, I-” He cut himself off, squeezing his eyes shut; his bitter chuckle echoed between them as he ran a hand through his messy waves. “I just can’t do any of this right, can I?”

  They both fell silent, before the prince took a shuddering breath.

  “You find what’s making their life difficult,” he said quietly, his eyes still shut, “and you kill it.”

  “... _What_?”

  “I know that falls under a different context, but I thought it might apply to this situation as well. I made your life difficult for- well, forever, so I thought maybe if I stayed away for a while, killed my presence around you, so to speak, it would be easier for you to assimilate with us- with them.

  “I tried to be quieter-” Virgil opened his mouth to comment on that, but Roman just held a hand up. “I know I’m loud, Virgil, trust me. I’m annoying. But I tried to hold back the stupid comments, and I did my best to be nice before I realized I was probably just making you uncomfortable with the quick switch - so I decided to retreat instead.” He sighed again. “I suppose that didn’t work well, either. I’m not very good at this.”

  “Did you mean what you said in my room?” Virgil blurted, taking in a sharp breath - he hadn’t meant to ask, but it had nagged at him since Roman’s soliloquy in his room, amidst the black eyeshadow and spiked emotions; the creative side’s words had lifted Virgil’s spirits, and yet, his robotic interactions with the prince made him question it all the same.

  But without hesitation, Roman said, “Every word.”

  The kitchen was draped in silence once more as Virgil rolled the words over in his head, letter by letter, disbelieving but so, so relieved. _You make us… better._ Every word.

  “I don’t think you’re annoying,” he finally managed; Roman raised an eyebrow at him. Whoops. “Well, I kind of do, but it’s mean to think it and I know that, if it helps, but you’re not actually annoying, just excitable, and sometimes you can be a little-” He clamped his mouth shut. “I’m… not good at this either. Sorry.”

  Roman stared at him for a moment, his gaze unreadable, and then he laughed.

  It was a pleasant noise, Virgil had to admit, full and warm even if it was a bit loud for his tastes, and it filled the unnatural silence of the house like a key in a lock. A smile twitched at the anxious side’s lips before he could help it.

  “Well, at least we’re both horrible at whatever this is,” the prince laughed, his eyes still glimmering with something sad when their gazes met over the counter. “Though I am truly sorry about everything, Virgil. I don’t really expect too much, but I hope you can forgive me eventually-”

  “Yeah,” Virgil said. “I can.”

  Roman gave him a crooked smile and nodded, clearly satisfied with that answer; he let out a heavy, relieved sigh, and leaned against the counter, his arms crossed. “I’m glad, you know.”

  “About what?”

  “That you’re finally an actual part of your family.”

  Virgil followed Roman’s gaze, turned towards the living room - Logan sat on the couch now, beside Patton, pointing to spots on the scarf between them and commenting, and though the anxious side had no doubt they were criticisms, the pair’s faces were adorned with smiles. Patton cocked his head to the side and laughed as Logan just shook his head. The living room seemed to reflect their warmth, golden and bright.

  Virgil couldn’t help but mirror the prince’s grin as he corrected, “Our family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, the end! This was a short one, but a dynamic in the famILY that I've never explored before - awkward but doing their best. I hope you guys enjoyed it, and wishing everyone lots of love from their own famILY's!!!


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